Where All Ends Meet
by Ipomoea Alba
Summary: Gakuen AU: School can double as a Masquerade. Anyone and everybody can put on a mask and take the stage, but what you see is just a facade, the true person that lies within will never be shown unless you tear their walls down brick by brick; so why not try now? FrUKUS and other pairings inside.
1. Chapter 1 Ruarc

**Pairings:** main[FRUKUS, SpaMano, PruHun] DenNor, GerIta, RoChu (others shall be added with requests and progression of the story).

**Sightly**

_To open my eyes to blackness, in day, or night, is of no fault of mine. Though, it is not really like I would love to see the dying world with my own eyes, which I would rather not. I can say for a fact that one can miss the startling light on their face, and the handsome eyes of their lover, gazing back at them with all of the tenderness in the world. Though this tenderness be not but a façade—Yes, I concede, I miss it. Even if I am not truly as blind as had once been with my sight, and not as truly alone, I feel alone. Unrequited love. It leaves one heartbroken. I thought I had been loved –and I truly had been. Just not in the way I had imaged our love to be. He loved me. He loved me for his own benefit. I believe I knew all along, but in vain, sought the lie to make myself happy. I had been so selfish. No matter how many times they say I am not alone, I feel as if they could not possibly understand the feeling of melting into darkness, yet strangely, not despair. Not anymore. I am blind; but I can see. I had once been graced with sight; but was blind. It is naught, but a melodramatic illusion for the_

_(by Arthur Kirkland)_

* * *

"Arthur-san, what are you writing?"

Startled, Arthur looked up, "Oh-oh nothing," he clicking to a different tab on his computer screen, "just b-browsing the internet!"

"Arthur-san . . . . . I rearry***** don't think that kind of stuff is appropriate at the office," he coughed, "Er, I mean counsel."

What? He looked back at his computer screen to see-

"Oh, blood hell! It's not what it looks like, Kiku!"

"I did not know that you swung that way," Kiku's face morphed into something like that on a predator's about to catch its prey, "If you don't rearry mind, would you care to take a few pictures for Elizabeta and myself? She absorutery roves Ya-"

"Did someone say Yaoi?" Elizabeta stuck her head out from behind where she was kneeling under the desk, "'cause if you have some yaoi pictures, I'll buy them from you lickety-split!"

"Well I was going to. Elizabeta-chan what are you doing underneath your desk?"

"Oh, well, I got the sudden urge to read one of those GerIta doujinshis that you drew/wrote and I keep all of my yaoi-related items under my desk."

"GerIta? What the hell are you two talking about?" inquired the Brit.

"Oh, well you know how we all belong to the _Mock World Representatives_ club? Best thing you ever forced me into, by the way, Arthur! And you know how Ludwig is Germany and that adorable Feliciano is Italy; Uh-hrrmmm, North Italy, I mean; I never understood why he was _so _particular about that."

"What, and so? How does this have anything to do with GerIta and whatever it's called: Yao-something." he had suspicions that he did not really want to know this . . .

"Well, have you noticed any _connection_ between the two of them? I mean come on, Feli is practically throwing himself at our dear stoic-but-not-stoic-when-he's-pissed German friend. I take 'Ger' from his country rep name and 'Ita' from Feli's rep name to make their pairing name. OH, my gosh, they are definitely one of my favourite OTPs!"

Arthur stared at her bewildered; did she know that she was practically grouping landmasses into a relationship? What sane person would ever even think about that, regardless if they representatives or not? It was ridiculous.

"Elizabeta-chan, you might want to explain what an OTP is, and you never answered his question to what 'Yaoi' is."

"T-that's okay, I'm sure I do _not _want to know anymore." Arthur stuttered.

"Oh calm down, Hun, it's nothing to worry about. An OTP stands for 'One True Pairing', oh my gosh I have _so_ many I don't know how to decide which is my favourite!"

"Hold on, _One_ True Pairing? Doesn't that only mean you can only have one?"

Elizabeta stared at her friend in shock as if he had grown the biggest eyebro- nevermind . . , "My goodness, _NO_! I would die if that were true!"

"But that is so contradicting! It should be something like MTP*****! It hardly makes sense that-"

"Oh hush now, Arthur, don't get all philosophical on me!"

"I'm not-! You know what, I won't even bother. So what's this yao-something? How does Yao relate to this weird country times country OTP pairing thing?"

"Yao? What?" she questioned.

He huffed impatiently, "Yao, the thing you wanted to tell me! What does he have to do with the relationships!"

"Wha- . . oh, OH, you mean Yao_i_? It's guy times guy pairings, similar to Yuri which is girl times girl pairings, but I don't like that as much."

"Wait, so you took Yao's name and added an 'I' to create . . . .homosexual pairings? Whatever, I don't care. As long as _I _am not in any of these weird fantasies, I won't say anything."

Kiku grimaced slightly, "Well, about that-"

"Uhhhhh, no, Yao's not really part of this . . . unless, OHHH, I have a great idea! Alright, gotta go stalk, I-I mean _talk_ to Ludwig and Feliciano, see ya, Kiku!"

"Right, show me if you get the pictures!" Kiku called after her.

"Don't worry, I won't forget!" And with that Elizabeta was gone.

There was a moment of silence, making Kiku slightly uncomfortable.

". . . . . . . . .," Arthur stared at his Japanese friend, "I see you in a very different light now, Kiku."

* * *

Rain poured down on the streets, making them wet and slippery. Oh for god's sake, why did he forget to bring his umbrella? Perhaps it was do to the case that he wanted to get out of those stupid wankers and actually have time alone for once. Seriously, none of them were ever working. They were always fooling around (or flirting in Francis' case), getting into trouble, or distracting him from doing something actually _important. _Today didn't count, he _was_ doing something productive, he was observing! He found it extremely suspicious that Arthur hadn't wanted to show his friends what exactly he was writing, he could probably guess what it was though. He had to admit, he was an excellent spy. He smiled at himself and then frowned; what the fuck were his friends talking about, 'Yaoi and GerIta' he didn't quite grasp the situation there.

He quickly picked up his pace as he noticed his house not too far away. As he arrived, he slammed open the door, shivering. A puddle of muddy water was created as he stepped into the house.

"You're cleaning that you, you know." a voice said. The voice belonged to a tall young man in a suit; he looked to be in his mid-twenties.

"Of course, I'm not lazy like the rest of you!" he snapped.

Scott*****, for that was his name, grimaced, "Must you be so loud? Besides, we clean up after ourselves . . . well, Peter***** doesn't and neither does Angus***** for that matter, but Arthur does, kind of."

"Yes, of course she does. We don't need the _princess_ to have cold feet." Ruarc***** drawled.

"Okay, okay, I get your point," Scott said, smiling whilst holding his hands up in mock gesture, "Come on, Ruarc, lay off him, you know what happened."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but that was _three_ _years ago_." he frowned, "He could at least be over it by now."

"He could still be grieving, it's painful to lose someone you love," his voice tightened and Ruarc flinched.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's fine, not your fault. We will see them some day, Mum and Dad and Sis."

"HEEEEEEEEEEY, JEEEEEERK, YOU'RE HOME!" Peter, the youngest brother bellowed from the stairs.

"Oh great," Ruarc muttered before he was tackled.

"Did'ja get me the icecream I asked for, did'ja, did'ja, Arthur's not home yet!" he rolled his eyes, oh god not again, his friend was like this _just_ this morning. What was so great about icecream, really?

"No, it's bloody pouring out, there was no way I was going to go to the store just for icecream!"

"You British Jerk of Jerks! You _promised._ You better get it tomorrow!"

"Yes, yes, I have homework to do, and isn't that Arthur's title? So skidattle now."

"You're no fun." he lit up, "I'll set an ambush for Arthur!"

Once Ruarc got to his room, he collapsed on the bed. _Urg, why is Peter so freaking annoying all of the time? _He sighed, and thought about Scott's words: there had been so many deaths in this family, he regretted about even mentioning it; it was something that he would honestly like to forget about. He frowned, he really should not have insulted Arthur as he did. He knew that Maria had meant a lot to him and his sister, he could even guess that his sister had been in love with the girl. She _had_ been pretty but, her personality was not one he could take a liking to. Maria was built relatively small, she had light caramel-brown hair with streaks of green that she had bleached and then dyed. She said it made her look more intimidating, Ruarc just thought she looked like a wannabe-Rock Star.

Sorcha, his sister, and Maria were very close. Both loved to pick on Ruarc when he was younger; that was before he grew a backbone. Despite this, they both loved to do what he called 'extremely-girly-things' like paint their nails, get their hair done, flirt (Maria had flirted with him a lot when she wasn't terrorizing him, which quite frankly, didn't make much sense in his mind . . .), dance, put on makeup, gossip. Oh god, how they gossiped, it was one of their favourite pastimes. He hated how they just snickered away at all of the horrible things they said about others.

He, Ruarc, was the fourth addition to the 'family' and the twin brother of Sorcha. Thus, he was stuck with the job of having to clean up after all the messes that both girls left in his room, accompany them whilst they shopped, and buy them drinks. And being with them both all of the time, it was somewhat obvious that Maria had developed a crush on Arthur. She would ask for less, things and blush a lot when he was around. Naturally, he fell for her as well, it was like she morphed into an entirely new person. _'She is so sweet and kind; well, just the other day-' _as his brother would say. Ruarc snorted, this was hard to believe for he never actually had _seen_ this act. However, as happy as the two were, Sorcha was not.

Now that he thought about, he really did believe that his sister had fallen in love with the girl; thus, she was heartbroken when Maria dumped her for her brother. Sorcha had never been good at dealing with not getting something that she wanted. And what she wanted was Maria.

_"I'm going out!" Arthur yelled._

_"Oh? Out with a certain brown-haired-purple-streaked girl?"_

_Arthur blushed slightly, "Shut up, wanker."_

_"Have. Fun." He didn't notice the strain in his sister's voice as he ran down the stairs._

_"And don't forget to clean up after yourself when you're done!" Scott winked._

_"Scott, for heaven's sake, we're fourteen years old!" Arthur exclaimed._

_"So?"_

_Arthur sighed, "Nevermind."_

_It had been a long day for Ruarc, and quite frankly, he didn't care. He remembered just going to his room, slamming the door and starting to work on his homework. After that, he had when to bed. The time had been 11:20, after all, it was still a school night. Now that he thought about it, he remembered having an odd feeling. Scott had went out, Angus was surprisingly quiet and the police were not at his door, Peter wasn't screaming his head off, and Sorcha; well, Sorcha wasn't bothering him, and that slightly scared him. When she wasn't with her friends, or bothering any of her brothers, there was something wrong. But then again, he was tired and didn't care. He would never forgive himself for being so selfish as he was._

_He awoke to the sounds of people arguing:_

_"Shut up, what the fuck is your problem, Sorcha?" Maria had screamed, "Why can't I spend time with my boyfriend?"_

_"Why?" his sister had screeched back, "Why? Because you_ never _have time for _me _anymore. It's always my brother: 'Arthur this, and Arthur that. I thought we were friends!"_

_"We are, but-"_

_"But?"_

_"We can't be if you're going to be so selfish and jealous like this. I have other friends besides you, alright? Just lay off!"_

_The colour had drained out of Sorcha's face, "You bloody fucking _bitch_! I'm the selfish one?"_

_Arthur was standing there, looking entirely at loss. One one hand, this was his girlfriend, lover, and love her he did, but on the other hand, this was his sister. Family always comes before 'friends', right?"_

_"Guys, listen to yourselves, I really don't think-"_

_Maria turned to him, "You're taking _her_ side over your, girlfriend's? I hate you!" the girl had always been a bit dramatic._

_"No, Maria, wait-!"_

_Sobbing, she ran down the street, which was perhaps the worst option she could have chosen, considering they had lived near a highway at the time._

_Arthur was left to stare after her._

_"You idiot!" Sorcha yelled, "She's heading towards the highway; get out of the way!"_

_His brother had been left dazed as his sister had pushed past him. After a minute he seemed to recollect himself and he ran after the two girls._

_That was when Ruarc, standing at his window, rushed down the stairs and outside. He had found Arthur sobbing on the side of the street._

_"They're gone! They're GONE!"_

_He would've laughed at his expression if he didn't see the 'parked' cars and a lot of blood around the road. He stared on in horror._

It had turned out, that Arthur had been too late, apparently, Maria had run out into the highway, and in an attempt to save her, as did his own twin sister. Inevitably, they found themselves under a truck, and by then, it had been the end.

He sighed; he would never forgive Arthur for standing there when he did. But he knew how much it had hurt him. His girlfriend and sister had died right before his eyes. He clenched his fists; that did not mean that he had to grieve forever, did he forget, there were other people in this house? Ruarc narrowed his eyes, that had been _his twin sister_. Sure, she could be a huge bitch, but that didn't mean he didn't love her. He leaned back in his bed.

It was then that Arthur had changed. He was no longer the shy, sweet boy that everyone knew him to be. Instead, he had morphed into a complete stranger. It was what Ruarc called "his Pirate days." He became a delinquent, and the police were at their house every minute of the day. He would rob and steal, cheat and lie. It was disastrous. When Scott made the decision to move, Ruarc could finally let out a sigh of relief. Arthur slowly had reverted back to his old ways. Heck, he even got to be student-counsel president. He wasn't sure why, only that he had met someone and that certain someone had helped Arthur get along better. He smiled slightly, that person had been a huge influence on his brother, and perhaps not too bad of a friend. As Arthur, was still moping about the loss of Maria, he hoped that his brother would find a new someone to like. Even if he had to push this, which was why he had been stalking his dear, brother today; he had a few certain someones in mind now . . . . . .

* * *

**((Each chapter will be a different P.O.V so you know, this time was Ruarc, just to get some history on Arthur))**

**Rearry** [_Really_]-do you wish for me to put Kiku's accent or not? I can't do it with any of the others because I'm just too incapable like that. If you would like the story to be consistent I can change it back to the original spealling.

**MTP -**"Many/Multiple True Pairings" is what Arthur had in mind.

**[27]_Scott Kirkland_ -oldest/first brother (Scotland** _so creative, I know_**)  
[12]_Peter Kirkland_ -youngest/fifth brother (Sealand** _In case anyone forgot_**)  
[25]_Angus Kirkland_ -second brother (Wales)  
[17]_Ruarc Kirkland _-[Roo-ark] Irish-Gaelic male name, means: Champion -fourth brother (Northern Ireland)  
[17]_Sorcha Kirkland -_[Soh-Ruh-Chuh] Irish-Gaelic female name, means: Light (Ireland) [DECEASED]  
[18]_Arthur Kirkland -_third brother (England** _If you don't know this, I'm seriously going to have to kill_ _you_**)**

_Greetings, everyone! Okay so this is my first Chapter-Story. It was originally intended to be serious, but it now has traces of crack here and there . . . _  
Now, I need you people to vote (on a lot of things!): Which characters do you want Nyo: _Romano, America, Canada, China_  
Which do you prefer: _USUK or FrUK  
_What other Pairngs? _SpaMano, DenNor, GerIta, etc.  
_If America is Nyo, what name: _Allison, Amelia, Alexis  
_Which P.O.V do you wish to see next?_ France, America, Scott, Ruarc . . . ._

* * *

_EDIT: **DISCLAIMER? DISCLAIMER? I'M NOT PUTTING A BLOODY DISCLAIMER, THIS FANFICTION dot Net for crying out loud! I own NONE of the characters by which I wrote. This is the one and**_** only _time I shall write this._**


	2. Chapter 2 Matthew

**Fascination**

_Moonlight drifted down the building, illuminating the sidewalk with a pale, pale blue. The warm summer night air was pleasant and soft on the face; a slight breeze stirred up the flowers and the trees rustled in response. They called to each other, beckoning the whistling grass to quiet down and listen. A hushed demeanor broke through the silence; not loud, but enough to build the tension gathering around the grass, trees, flowers, all plants. An owl hooted as if signaling: It was time._

_And all the while, the dewy moon looked down upon them with an expressionless face. The face brightened slightly as a figure stepped through the shadows. The grass, in excitement, whipped around the person's bare ankles. The figure drew to a stop and stared up at the moon. He smiled back in response._

_More enthusiastic whispers could be heard through the night sky, for hark! So there, another person came out of the shadows, making way to where the first person decided to sit, flatting the grass. The man smiled to himself, humming, breaking the lasting silence and the trees leaned forward to hear the first word which would bring the two together._

_The silence between the two was longer than anticipated, but finally:_

_"Mon amour."_

_The second man smiled inwardly, but stood up quickly, hitting the man halfheartedly._

_"You're late, Wanker," but he smiled, giving away the attempted facade._

_"My apologies, Ma Chèr Belle, for time is scarce and M'lady would not leave me be."_

_The second man frowned, his emerald eyes gleaming in the pale moonlight, "Your Lady? Pray tell, now who would that be? Francis, l-love, I do hope that you think not about some other woman whilst I stand in front of you!"_

_"Non, non, non! Mon Chèr, I am faithfully yours forever more," he winced, "Why would you hesitate to name me your love? I could ask you the same, whilst I stand here, do you think of another?"_

_The man hesitated once more, "No . . . It is just, very different; I have never loved a man before. An true Englishman would be ashamed, yet, I love you so . . ."_

_"Ah, Mon chéri Arthur, not as much as I love you; love is a powerful thing that conquers all and brings a proud man to his knees. It matters not whether the lovers are Man and Woman or Man and Man such as we. Will you be able to overcome that pride of yours and love me?"_

_"Of course," a new determination flashed in Arthur's eyes, "I am not a coward and I will not run away from you, for I love you a-and I am forevermore yours." He turned his face away, presumably blushing, "W-whatever you wish . . . "_

_Francis pulled his lover towards him,"I wish . . .: Arthur, be mine," he breathed._

_"Always."_

_They drew closer, while Francis tilted Arthur's face moonward. They stared at each other for what seemed like eternity, and finally, Francis made the first advance and moved forward. Arthur closed his eyes and leaned into his touch, anticipating the moment with excitement, for what else could the explanation of his shaking be?_

_They moved closer, until their mouths were hovering not a centimeter apart._

_It was as if they were in a fairytale, pausing once again and then . . . . . . ._

**DUR, DUM, DUR, CRASH!**

Arthur snapped open his eyes, narrowing them and then kneeing his supposed lover in the crown jewels.

"SUCK MY DICK, FROG!" he hollered promptly hitting him again, "You didn't _really _believe I would kiss someone like _you_ did you?"

Their 'audience' groaned loudly, followed by a few facepalms (compliments to Roderich).

Elizabeta huffed and Arthur looked up from his currently bruised victim, bracing himself for Elizabeta's 'famous' reprimand followed by three hours of forced 'yaoi' (now that he knew what that was).

"ALFRED FUCKING JONES! What. The. Fuck; the hell was that?" the girl stormed up to the boy besides Gilbert, ready to bash his head in, "We were _so _close! This is about the fifth time we've done this scene! It was bad enough both Arthur and Francis were arguing during most, but _just _when they were about to- urg!"

The student named Alfred, who was currently on the floor on the opposite side of the room, looked sheepishly towards the director, "Gee, I'm sorry Liz, but you shouldn't have given me so much to carry! It was an accident waiting to happen. I do _sincerely _apologize though!"

"W-what? When did you get over there? Then . . who's this?"

"M-maple! I-I'm Alfred's brother, don't worry people mista-"

"You better clean this up, Alfred!" She said turning around, ignoring the flustered look-alike, "We seriously need to get to work!"

"Aye, Madam!" Alfred mock saluted as Elizabeta rolled her eyes.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder and someone lean down to whisper into her ear, "Listen, Elizabeta, about that d-"

"Holy SHIT, that was so good; aw, man, Francis, buddy, you were so close!"An albino practically screamed at his friend. Current friend, who was now beaten to the core, stood up slowly, wincing.

"Ah, yes, Gilbert; though, I must say, you're a little slow on the uptake there, Mon Ami; too busy daydreaming that it was Elizabeta and yourself in our place? I bet it would have ended in the exact same way. But . . . you probably would not have come out of that alive," Francis taunted.

"I-I was not!" Gilbert stuttered, "Besides, you're just rigid because you got kneed in the balls."

"And you _wouldn't_?" he asked wryly.

"Point taken."

"O-oh, so what were you going to say, Roderich?" Elizabeta blushed slightly, tuning out Gilbert and Francis.

"I was going to say: about that dinner, I can't come; sorry, I'm busy and I can't afford to miss my concert for a trifle matter as such."

Her smile became pasted, "Oh, tha-that's fine. I'm sorry, I know yo-, hey, wait just a minute there; I never asked you out for dinner!"

She crossed her arms, how could he turn her down when she didn't even have the chance to offer anything yet?

The man looked surprised, "What? B-but I found a note on my desk asking to join someone at dinner at Five o'clock; I guess I just assumed it was you."

She narrowed her eyes, "Well you guessed _wrong_, besides, if I wanted to ask you out; I would have told you to your face!"

* * *

"What the heck, Liz? He did all that just for you," an unknown student stood in the shadows, eyes narrowed, "even if you _were _denied in the end. Gilbert's right, that Austrian is a prick."

"Alfred?" Matthew asked the strange man beside the door.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH," Alfred screamed jumping, "GHOOOST, GET IT AWAY, GET IT AWAY!"

"A-Alfred, it's just me . . . your brother, eh?"

"Oh, holy shit, Mattie, don't fucking creep up on me like that!"

"Eh? B-but I didn't . . . . I was here the whole time . . . " the ghost, Matthew, whispered.

"O-oh really? Ah, sorry about that! Um, do you," Alfred dropped his smile and frowned, looking quite troubled in Matthew's opinion. His eyes narrowed as if to think of something bothersome; that expression just did _not _belong on a face like Alfred's, even if he had seen it many times before. Alfred looked at him dead in the eyes and hesitated slightly. He knew his brother was not as dumb as he appeared to be, "Al . . . !"

"Have a hamburger?"

_I wish to retract my previous statement, _he muttered, _should have expected that,_ "No, Alfred, I don't go caring McDonalds as a lifeline."

"Ohh, that's right, you carry around maple-stuff-thingy-what's-it-called?"

_Correction, _he thought, _I wish to retract my previous statement times ten, _"Syrup, eh?"

"Yeah, that stuff! It's good! But MickyD's is better! Syrup isn't healthy for you, ya know!"

He wanted to facepalm, "Al-"

"Yo! Alfred, s'up? Nice interruption there, aha, Francis totally had that comin'!" Matthias***** called.

"Maple!" the Canadian squeaked.

"Psht, that really wasn't on purpose, Elizabeta just gave me too much stuff to carry -and then she blames it on me, can you believe it?"

"Fuck, yeah! Doesn't that always happen? Like just the other day, Nor-" they continued their 'cheerful conversation'. Kind of like one of those 'who's got it worse' games.

"Idiots. All of them. But especially Bror," a voice mumbled, "I don't understand why I put up with him all the time; so annoying."

"Um, Lukas, I wouldn't call hitting him whenever you get the chance and making him get what you want and carrying your things all the time, is exactly 'putting up with' . . . I'd say, more like, giving him a chance to be your servant; weird," the shorter accomplice beside him muttered.

"Same difference," Lukas***** rolled his eyes, "Besides, Bror likes doing that kind of stuff; why not take advantage of it? Of course, if he'd go away it'd be all the better."

"Of course," his brother Emil***** deadpanned.

"Y-yeah," the Canadian tried to join in, "Brothers are really weird, aren't they?"

Lukas, unlike many others, didn't jump, but cast him a slightly surprised look and then answered, "He's not my brother."

_What?_

"U-um, but I thought that 'Bror' means brother in Danish or Norwegian . . .?"

"It does."

"W-what? But-"

He was elbowed in the side (_'Maple!') _and Emil stared at him with dead eyes, warning him not to go further, "_Just don't question it!"_

"Ah, I-I see; well then, people like Alfred and Matthias, your not-brother, are very strange," he choked out.

Lukas glared at him when he added the short extra bit, but decided to ignore it, "Yes, indeed," he muttered cynically.

"Luuukaaaas!" Matthias attempted to tackle the Norwegian, "Guess wh-Urg."

Lukas, his face expressionless as ever and his hand in the Dane's gut, sighed, "What? And I told you not to touch me."

The Dane's face dropped a bit, but then regained its excitement, "Guess what?"

"Matthias, I'm going to give you three seconds to tell me before I kick you again, namely somewhere not so nice, and leave."

"Okay, okay, alright!" he said, not at all fazed by Lukas' bad temper, "Alfred just invited us-"

"No."

"Aw, but Norge, you didn't even hear what I had to say!"

"It's a 'no' anyway. And didn't I tell you to stop calling me that horrendous nickname? Dammit, I'm going to curse Arthur for forcing us into that 'National-Club-Thing.'"

"I see. But I think it's cute! Just li-"

"ANNOYING!"

Matthew watched as Lukas, true to his word, kicked Matthias hard . . . in an unwanted place, the one thing he did notice, was that he didn't leave. Right away, that is.

* * *

Matthew flopped onto the couch in annoyance. It had taken forever to get Alfred home; he rolled his eyes, god, today had been so hectic between Alfred accidentally dropping the articles that Elizabeta had given him (which consisted of pots and pans, mind you) and her in return lecturing him on the ways of yaoi, Arthur beating Francis to a pulp whenever he saw him, Lukas kicking his 'Bror' (but not brother) Matthias repeatedly, Gilbert, at the same time she was lecturing Alfred, Elizabeta was hitting him with her pan, and Austria hitting his head against the wall repeatedly (until he decided to vent his anger on the nearby piano). All in all, _nothing _had gotten done and this worried Matthew greatly. This was perhaps the third week in which they had been practicing this play which Elizabeta had so kindly wrote.

They had gotten nowhere! Not one scene was blocked, no songs had been practiced, no parts had been given _until _Vash had to threaten to shoot each and every person with his gun (god _knows _where he got that thing) if they did not pull themselves together and give the parts. Thankfully, the lethal weapon was confiscated before it could get into more dangerous hands, like the self-proclaimed 'Bad Touch Trio' who were quite openly eyeing (in Gilbert's case), wouldn't be in the same room as it (Francis), and . . . well, Antonio wasn't there. Supposedly something to do with a 'Lovi'. _What's a Lovi?_

Matthew stood; that expression on his brother's face had scared him a lot. It was the kind of expression he had showed him only once before. And that time, he had been really sick. There once had been where they had confided in each other for everything; girls, grades, friends, homework. They relied on the other, and in return, were supported without question. They trusted each other with their deepest secrets, or as deep as one could go for being but nine years. That was what he thought at least.

The change in his brother had been immediate. He grew secretive, more daring, and would not open his door to anyone -literally. There was a lock on his heart which no one was able to reach at any cause, not that they had not tried. These antics became more and more frequent: he would go out of the house and would not come back until very late at night, or at the slightest light in the morning. Every time, Matthew would notice he wore long sleeves and once there was a bandage on his face. Soon, he started watching horror movies. Now, he's not talking about 'oh wow, a fake skeleton with lots of ketchup'. No, these horror movies were something even the most dangerous kid on the block would not be able to stomach. He grew more and more afraid of them each day, but after school in his eighth year, he would never skip the daily movie.

He never knew his brother to be so scared. He probably thought that watching these movies would steel his resolve to whatever he was doing. What had frightened his brother as to the prospect of cowering at a stupid horror move?

There was definitely something wrong with Al or so he thought at the time. However, as they entered college, his demeanor changed drastically once again. He became the happy selfless person everyone knew him to be. Chivalrous, brave, charming, handsome -the list was endless about 'how great' he was. Once, he, Matthew, had been the star that everyone had known, but now he was a nobody. No one remembered him and all thought that he was Alfred when they caught him in the halls. He frowned, Alfred had caused him so much trouble. He was sure it was not on purpose, but that didn't make it any less annoying and hurtful.

He had perhaps one friend, two if one were to count Ernesto*****, but Ernesto hated his brother, and although he liked Matthew, he would always confuse the two. Matthew had learned to stay away from him time to time. Gilbert was his only friend: in a way. At least he _saw_ him and never mistook him for his brother. It was not like as if they hung out often, but when he could, Gil would include him in his group of friends: The Bad Touch Trio. It wasn't worth much though, for, it _was_ the Bad Touch **Trio_. _**He was just nice to talk to from time to time, even if all he talked about was his self-proclaimed 'awesomeness', that 'prick of an Austrian', and that 'bitch Elizabeta'. Of course, his brother was in the mix somewhere, for they did have an okay relationship as the self proclaimed _Awesome Trio_: Gilbert, Alfred, and Matthias.

There were so many different cliques in their school, yet not at all at the same time. And, surprisingly enough, they were all trios, (except one), which seemed to be named wholly by Elizabeta, if not, Kiku and Xiao Mei***** . . . . Once, when Matthew was bored, he wrote down all that he could remember. Ah! He had it with him now (it still had some of his notes on it though . . .):

**Bad Touch Trio**: Gilbert, Antonio, Francis -_obvious_  
**Awesome Trio**: Gilbert, Alfred, Matthias _–self-proclaimed!_**  
Fail Trio**: Arthur, Gilbert, Matthias _–Lukas and Elizabeta agree on this_  
**Magic Trio**: Arthur, Lukas, Dracul***** _-they seem to be obsessed with magic, what!_  
**Tsundere Duo***: Arthur, Lukas –_Kiku named them this, and Elizabeta seems to agree_  
**Yandere Trio**: Ivan, Natalya, Antonio –_same as above (Why is Antonio here?)_  
**Otaku Trio**: Kiku, Elizabeta, Xiao Mei -_named this by the rest of the school for obvious reasons._**  
Sparkle Trio**: Roderich, Eduard, Francis –_the way they always sparkle, it is scary_  
**Dread Trio**: Toris, Eduard, Raivis –_they seem ESPECIALLY afraid when Ivan is around!_**  
Blonde Trio**: Arthur, Alfred, Francis –_well, everyone seems to call them this . . ._  
**Hockey Trio**: Matthew, Ivan, Berwald –_hockey is my only good sport; Alfred is included in this when he wants to be.  
_**FrUKUS**: Francis, Arthur, Alfred -_? ? ? ? ! ? ! ? !_  
**Frying Pangle**: Gilbert, Elizabeta, Roderich –_I think Elizabeta likes Roderich . . . Gil, hates them both right? Why did Xiao Mei/Kiku name this?  
_**Honda's Bodyguards**: Kiku, Heracles, Sadik –_They both compete over his friendship/romance, right? I thought he liked Xiao Mei!  
_**Hanatama Trio/Family**:Berwald, Tino, Peter -_Berwald likes Tino and gave him a dog named Hanatamago for his birthday, Peter calls Berwald his father and Tino his mother . . . . I see where Elizabeta and Xiao Mei have come up with this . . ._

The groups were mostly based around who stuck around who most or other interests (see notes) each person was in. It was weird really. No one remembered him in the Hockey Trio. Or, him in it at least. Really, it was a shame, he was their best player! Alfred was good at football, the American sport, where they throw a weird brown shaped ball and tackle people.

It still bothered him for what troubled his brother back then. He figured it was just a phase, but nevertheless, it sure was frightening; furthermore, the face that Alfred had let slip today did not console the dear child at all. Matthew knew something was wrong. He just did not know what it was or what to do about it –humans are hapless creatures, are they not?

Matthew closed his eyes. Taking care of his brother was exhausting, even if he did not know what he was sheltering his brother from. He would have guessed that he was in some sort of gang by the cuts and bruises he came home with. But Alfred had always been a rowdy child, as much as he was concerned, he was sure that his brother was just fine.

Ever since he knew Alfred, he had always been rambunctious. He assumed and just imaged. That's the furthest step Matthew would take with his brother's care. _Al can take care of himself_, he thought. Actually, he had not always been living with Alfred. He used to live with his mother in Canada and Alfred with his father in the States. Apparently, they technically were not biological brothers as they _did_ have the same mother, their fathers were different.

His mother had loved Matthew's father the most should would have never left his side if not for that accident that took his life. She was pregnant with Matthew then. But Matthew had not been her first child, rather, her second. A year before her marriage with Matthew's father, she had gotten drunk and played around with an older gentleman which she later remarried after the previous husband's death.

It was evident to Matthew that she did not love him as much. Alfred's father was cold and withdrawn from the world. The only reason he had found their mother was because he wanted the right to raise his _own _son, that being Alfred. So Alfred was separated from his mother and brother at an early age. They did keep in contact, but they did not meet until Middle School.

After Middle School, their mother gave them a loan to rent an apartment for the two of them. Their mother called daily, checking up and asking of their welfare, before Alfred finally convinced her that they were fine. They had received less calls since.

Alfred never talked about his father. Whenever the subject came up, he would quickly divert the conversation to something about 'Heroism' and justice. He never called or wrote to his father. Matthew just assumed they were not very close.

"Yo! Matt, do we have any potato chips? I wanted to watch a movie with ya! Pleaaaase?" he heard his brother call from downstairs.

"They are in the cupboard to the right! And fine."

"Thanks!"

He smiled: just another day in the Jones-Williams house.

* * *

**Matthias ****Køhler** [_Muh-tay-us_]-Denmark  
**Lukas ****Bondevik** -Norway  
**Emil Bondervik** -Iceland  
**Ernesto **-Cuba  
**Xiao Mei** -Taiwan  
**Dracul** -Romania (_I got _real _creative with this name_)

**Tsundere ****Duo **: It's called plotting~

_I wanted to thank everyone for putting this on their alerts and especially for reviewing for it means a lot to me. Now, as to the three who voted. FRUKUS is still undetermined until more votes. America shall remain male, SpaMano and DenNor will definitely be included in necessary chapters (I have something planned for Lovi). _

_I know that many of you expect a serious story. And this story _will be serious _but it will have 'attempted' crack in it to lighten the atmosphere until something really important is going on so that it's not just one big ''BLAH". (The 'crack' is usually not only crack, but plot spuds as well)._

_I'm sorry about the P.O.V this time, as it wasn't someone that everyone, but I thought that Matthew would be a good insight to what most people saw in Alfred, yet include a little bit of his secluded background -which is important._

_Franada or France/Joan of Arc? I personally don't mind either._


	3. Chapter 3 Antonio

**Delusion**

He sat up quickly, sweat coating his forehead and dripping down his arms. _Why, why again? Every night! Why the hell does this dream plague me endlessly? _The man wiped the sweat from his brow, leaning back down on his bed slowly; hands clasped. He turned his eyes to the clock next to him:

1:49 am.

"¡Mierda!" he muttered under his breath, "And today I finally thought that I may be able to get some sleep!" somehow, he thought that this was funny.

Reluctantly, the man dragged himself out of the comfort of his bed, (which really was not giving him much comfort at all these days), and swayed towards his bedroom door. He tried to wipe the sleepiness from his eyes, but to no avail. He was halfway to falling asleep on the spot and not being able to sleep at all. He shook his head; how was he really this unfortunate? The man grimaced, he had thought that he finally had gotten himself straightened out last year, but now with these ridiculous dreams? Why couldn't fate just leave him alone? Screw that 'Fate' and 'Destiny', seriously.

He stumbled down the stairs in a drunk manner -it did not matter, his friends were probably out drinking, or fucking someone; well that was harsh. As Francis says, making l'amour with a 'special someone'. Then again, says the man who comes from the country where 'Kiss' and 'Fuck' mean the same thing. Guess it always leads one to another there. He should his head, walking towards the kitchen, he almost tripped on the bunched up rug at the door, swearing in the process.

Finally, he was at the kitchen, his dizziness lightened a bit. Groaning he intended to opened up the refrigerator to rummage around for something decent to eat.

"Again, mon ami?" a voice seemed to blare through the darkness as he stood with his hand on the door.

The man turned around slowly, shielding his eyes from the sudden light. When he saw who it was, he turned back around and took his hand off of the refrigerator door, "Not now, Francis; I just want to sleep," although neither knew that that was possible.

Francis grimaced, "My dear troubled friend, you know as well as I that you will be getting no sleep tonight!" the Frenchman shook his head, "Really, you should keep up with taking those pills the doctor gave you."

He sighed, "Francis, you already know how I feel about pills; I'm already taking one too many than I want to at the moment. Besides, sleeping pills will not help, I tried," he said, silencing the man at protest, "sure, they knock me out, but I become even more tired, and it is even _worse _the next day. Just, the screams, I don't want to know how they can get any worse."

Francis huffed, "Yes, yes, I know. But you are really worrying me and our friend Gilbert; Antonio, this can not keep going on! You at least need to see a," he hesitated, "Psychiatric, someone to calm you."

Antonio flinched slightly, but waved the suggestion away, "I have been to too many of those throughout my life, mi amigo, no way am I going to another one unnecessarily."

His friend frowned at the him, "It is not quite that unnecessary: dreaming of imaginary characters? That has got to stop! He's not real and you know it! Has Arthur or Lukas finally got to you about that ridiculous supernatural halabaloo?"

"Of course not, I hate Arthur, why would I ever take advice from him?" he frowned in thought, "He's real, Francis, I mean, Lovi-," he said after a moment, "I swear, I am not making it up! He is in trouble and needs my help. Why do you not understand I have to _do _something? I cannot just sit by and watch someone bleed to death or commit suicide or choke or get poisoned over and _over _again and be content to do _nothing_! Not like before."

"You don't have to compensate on what you have done in the past, Antonio," Francis replied quietly, "you can't redeem yourself through dreams."

"This has _nothing_ to do with that."

Francis' eyes hardened, "Doesn't it? Of course it does, you ass. It has _everything_ to do with _him_! This is exactly what happened last time, Antonio! Imbécile! He is screwing with your emotions again! Don't fall into this trap twice over!"

Their voices rose steadily. One tired and one anxious. Both angry.

Antonio glared furiously at his friend, "Again? Twice over? No! I know this is not _him. _I know now when it is him, I should. This is not him. Don't tell me you know him better than myself! I know him better than anyone. He is _not_ tricking me. This person needs help, he needs _me!_

"_He_ needs help? Your dream character? Listen to yourself, Antonio! This is _him! _You were not there exactly to witness it, this is exactly what happened last time. He tricked you and you wiped your fucking memory because you couldn't deal with the after-shit!"

"I can tell, Francis! I know when he comes! And I remember sometimes . . . I know the majority of what happened that night, if not everything."

"Antonio . . . you-"

"Kesesese, watcha ya'll guys d-d-doin'? Eheh! Wowwwww," a voice droned, "W-w-why's it so flippeh and dizzeh? Francy-pants, get meh m-morrre Beer! E-Elizebeta didn't show up" he hiccuped, "S-S-She: stupid bitch! I-I d-didn't know that she hated me _this much. _Stupid aristocrat, stupid bitch! My Love, my love! Gilbird, my Love, where hast you flown? Through beautiful skies of greeeeeeey and preeeeetty beeeeeeeees of reeeeeeeeed, I love you so my flying Love of lovely Awesomeness! BEER!"

"Gilbert, you dick, always at the most inconvenient times," Francis shook his head, "No more beer for you, god knows how Elizabeta puts up with you half the time. Let's go," he started to drag Gilbert up the stairs, "Oh, and Antonio?" he turned around, "Take a walk; I'm sorry, but you need to forget about your little fantasy character."

Antonio sat down heavily in his chair, _what is wrong with me? Did Francis' words really rile me up that much? Is he right? N-No! I know this person is real! He has to be. I know this isn't _him _fucking with my mind again. I'm sure of it, _Antonio thought to himself.

Francis was right: He needed a walk.

* * *

"Uh, urrm, uhhhhh. I don't care?"

"Come on, I said I would pay, choose something."

"Kesesesese."

"Not helping, Gilbert."

"Uhhhrm, how . . . about . . . well, you said you wanted . . . you decide. "

"Fuck no! If he decides it's frog-soup! I would rather _not _get warts in my mouth thank you very much!"

"Mon dieu! Such insolence, it is called Frog's Legs and it is a _delicacy _where I come from!"

"Well obviously, your people don't understand that frogs aren't delicate at all and are disgustingly warty to eat."

"Would you rather we bring up how to cook a wonderful little bird?"

"Fick Dich! What about your Pierre?"

"He's smart enough to stay away from the oven unlike your little bird . . . . what was it called?"

"He's not an _it. _He's a _he_! And his name is Gilbird! Don't you forget it!"_  
_

"Right, I am _so _sorry, how did I forget?"

"Perhaps, I want a hamburger?"

"Sacrebleu, we're in _America_, of course there is only that horrible McDonalds. Hm, I actually want soup, let's get soup!"

". . . . . . . ."

". . . . . . . ."

"What?"

"I am so confused, Francy-pants, what kind of dialogue is this?"

"That is Antonio's line."

"Hey, where'd he go?"

The two friends turned around.

"He probably got tired of your constant frog-talk," Gilbert smirked.

"Of course not, you were just not awesome enough for him."

"How _dare _you? I am the Awesomest of the AWESOME."

"Right."

"I am; you are just too _un_awesome to see it!"

"Yes, yes; Gil, do you happen to know of the date that marks today?"

"No . . . ?" the albino said after some thought, "Why? Does it matter?"

Francis turned to his friend with a worried look, "I just have a really bad feeling, and it has something to do with Antonio and his imaginary friemd, Lov-something."

Gilbert turned to the closet to get his coat, "I don't think that we need to worry so much, Franny, he probably went ahead to get rid if your nasty bird-frog-eating talk. It's not like he's _mental_ or something."

Francis turned away from his red-eyed friend.

"You don't know the half of it," he muttered sadly.

* * *

Antonio made a face. Neither of his friends believed him. Truthfully, it hurt. He knew that both were struggling with their own issues and the like, and that something similar happened before in his younger years, yet, it could not hurt for them to at least believe that he knew it was not _that guy _doing this. He _knew! _And yet, he was still doubtful. Perhaps his endless conflict to his friends was just his way of convincing himself that Lovino _was _real. But he was! He most certainly was; undoubtedly. Lovino needed his help, and he would help him, of course. But where the heck could he be? Just because he saw him in a dream did not know exactly _where_ he was.

_'Dear Antonio, how do you know for _sure _that this isn't my doing? How do you know that I do not try reverse-psychology now? Are you so plagued with such little love that you are letting yourself believe in something unreal and complete fiction? Oh, how I thought you knew _better _than that! __You should know, I'm just a personification of your deeper intentions that you are too cowardly to perform. Why do you seek to run from me? Do you not love me? You _should _love me. Embrace me with happiness. Remember you did once? Remember that time? Oh how _lovely! _You must have been very pleased with yourself afterwards. No matter how much you cried, sobbed, pulled a fit, and cursed me. I know you were glad inside. I know that you were indeed grateful. That you were happy for once. But you would let no once see. Ah, how thoughtful, so you decided to keep me to yourself after all. . . And then those _wretched _friends of yours decided to intervene. Ah, but, Antonio, you are a good boy, no? Just for me, you stopped taking those nasty pills. And now you're even more happy! Oh how delighted that makes me! And your friends?_ _Why, they don't care for you! Can you not see that they are just using you? Well, you with your _connections _and background. The inheritance! They could kill you know for all they care; __why? Becau-'_

"Shut _up! _They care for me they really do! They are my friends, they would never do that to me! Never! Just because they don't believe me doesn't mean that they aren't my friends! T-They are! They have been with me through thick and thin," he hesitated, "S-So just, ju-!"

'_Are you sure? Francis knows _all _about you. I am quite sure that he figured out how to deal with you. And Gilbert? He just has no life. So of course he would stick with you and the pervert. Bad Touch Trio indeed-'_

"No, I-"

"Antonio!" duel voices called out to him. They ran towards him in slow motion -or so it seemed. Did they really hate him? Use him? No. Francis would never do that . . . but what if he just took to seek advantage from him? And Gilbert? Gilbert drunk his problems away, religious or not. What if he was just a distraction? What if these really were not his true friends? . . . Lovino? What would Lovino think? Would he hate him? Would he hate him for-

'_Of course he would, Antonio. Of course. But he's not _real _so forget about the dreams. He's not worth chasing after. What are you looking for in this 'imaginary character Lovino'? Is it because you are in love with his look alike? Feliciano? I saw your visions. He looks exactly like him, yet, more temperamental. More angry. He is not real and thus could not love you. Stop kidding yourself with your whims for the dear boy Feliciano. He has already fallen in love with another. Lovino is not real. You are an idiot. **Amar y no ser amado es tiempo mal empleado*,**_ _remember?' You will _never _find love. No-one but from me, your co-consciousness.'_

"No. That is not true! Lov-!"

"Antonio!" the voices shouted again.

As the drew near, they were met with a smirk and suppressed giggles, "Well, hello, again!" there was something off about him. Just, not right.

"Anto-," Francis had started, but the look in his eye stopped him.

Gilbert stumbled in after his blonde friend, out of breath, "H-h-how does someone with so-so-so l-little exercise run so _fast_?! I mean sheesh, you're such a-a," he continued to pant, "P-p-pansy. I mean, not as m-much as the aristocrat, kesesese, b-but, did you l-l-learn a few things from I-Italy?" he put his hand against the brick wall whilst holding his stomach, "And how did we end up in an ally of all things? Seriously, this is turning out to be like a horror movie! Next all we need is an evil psycopath to-to come and k-kill us with a chainsaw!"

"Francis," the name was drawn out, "how _are _you? Long time no see, hmm?" the man's eyes were dark, Francis assumed them like black coals.

"What? But we just saw you, like, six seconds ago, Tony!"

"Oh? But, I'm not 'Tony'!"

"Fine, sheesh, Tony, I mean '_Antonio'._" Gilbert said rolling his eyes, what the heck was wrong with him today?

"Hey, albino, you were saying something about a chainsaw right?" the brown haired man started to grin.

"Mein Gott, so what? Do you have one here? And my name isn't 'Albino', dummkopf, what has gotten into you?"

"Gil . . . ," Francis warned.

"Oh, no, _Gil!_ Unfortunately, I forgot to bring one! Ah but I do have . . ." he turned around for a moment, rummaging around in the garbage.

"Ew, what the fuck, 'Tonio?" like the idiot he was, Gilbert made his way forward to see this 'interesting chainsaw'.

"Ah, nothing, nothing, how do you like . . . _this?"_

Now Gilbert _should_ have known that this was coming. He really should have known, now that he looked back on it; what an idiot he had been. But of course, the million horror movies about Jack the Ripper and other serial murderers that he had watched with Alfred or Elizebeta or the rest of the Bad Touch Trio just didn't click at the moment. Why should it? This was one of his best friends, Antonio! Well, sure, he should have noticed Francis' panicked look and hesitancy and well, his overall fear-aura emitting from him. Oh and his warnings. Plus perhaps the threatening demeanor coming from his friend. But _no_ why would he? That had _nothing _to do with his friend! So he drew closer, relaxed and guard down.

That was all 'Antonio' needed to fling around with a giant axe in his hand. Yes. It was kept in the garbage in a random convenient ally for no reason; yes, yes it was.

"Ficken*****!" Gilbert screamed as the blade narrowly missed his arm, "What the hell Antonio?!"

Francis seemed to crash down back to earth, "Gilbert! Get out of the way! That is _not _Antonio!"

"What the hell, Franny? Of course it is! I just understand why he would swing a fucking _axe_ at my head! Huh? Any explanations? Shit, Antonio! I still have Gilbird, what would happen if I died? Gilbird would be all lonely and that stupid bitch Elizabeta would take him and I just _cannot _leave my baby there to be slaughtered by her! Well, she wouldn't but the damn aristocrat would! And she listens to _everything _he says, Gilbird I love you! I love you so much! You make daddy so proud! Don't forget i- fuuuuuck! Watch where you are swinging that!"

"Gilbert just get out of the fucking way!"

"What do you _think, _that I'm trying to do, dumbass? This is _so _not funny, Tony!"

The axe came swinging down again in a playful manner, anyone could tell that the Spanish man was not trying at all, yet his intentions were clear, "Urg, too long, just _too long _since I've had her back in my hands! I'm a bit rusty, don't mind me!" 'Antonio' smirked.

"Seriously, someone better fucking explain something to me _now_!" The albino cursed.

"That's not Antonio."

"Well I can fucking see _that _now! So what is his goddamn name, someone _please _clue me in! Antoni-"

"No."

The word was cutting, and one could tell that this man was loosing some of his patience.

"What?"

"No. I am Spain."

* * *

**Amar y no ser amado es tiempo mal empleado: **Spanish for _Of all pains, the greatest pain, is to love, but love in vain.  
_**Ficken:** German for _Fuck!_

Yay! Cliffhanger -oh god, my fight scenes are cliched and fucked up. That's okay! Sorry for so much of the swearing on Gilbert's part. I mean, if a giant axe was trying to cut my head off . . . well, yeah, I'd swear.

So . . . what did you think? Too fast? I have written the least for this chapter, yet I believe it has the most _amusing_ criteria. I love reviews, of course! Don't worry, I won't leave this scene next chapter. I'm not _that _evil. So sorry for the late update!

Which of the two P.O.V.'s would you like next?**_ Gilbert or Francis_?**


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